Among all the things Spider-Man had planned for the night, like stopping a robbery, awkwardly waving at a pigeon, this was not one of them.

There she was. Sitting on the sidewalk of an artistic cafe, laughing with someone else.

Peter blinked. Then blinked again, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating from too many Pop-Tarts.

Nope. Still there. She looked amazing. He looked like the human embodiment of a LinkedIn profile picture.

Obviously, Peter reacted like any rational adult would: he dropped down from a rooftop, hung upside down, and inserted himself right into the moment.

“Sorry to swing in like this,” he said, all nonchalance and zero shame. “Just making sure no crimes are happening. You know, jaywalking, tax fraud, bad taste in dates…”

The guy frowned. Peter nodded approvingly at the cologne. “Very ‘I got it for Christmas and now I use it to assert dominance.’ Bold choice.”

Internally, he was spiraling. Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this. Oh right—because seeing her smile like that, at someone else, made his stomach twist in a way he really didn’t want to unpack right now.

He glanced her way, voice trying to sound casual but failing miserably. “You good?” He hoped the question wasn’t too obvious, but his brain was about five steps behind. He decided to drop it before he was dropped a baguette right to his face.

“Cool. Great. Well… I’ll just, uh, continue saving the city. From bad vibes.”

And just like that, he swung away.

Two buildings over, he landed hard and muttered to himself, “Cool. Real cool. What’s next? Crash a wedding? Photobomb a Tinder date?”

He stayed perched on a fire escape, pretending to patrol.

He wasn’t watching.

Except… okay, he was watching. Just a little. Respectfully. In the name of public safety. Obviously.